


Till human voices wake us, and we drown

by Leap_of_Faith, Volavi



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood and Injury, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, alfred totally ships them, erotic love to agape love, possible misuse of T. S. Eliot, roomba is the hero we deserve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 11:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13235043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leap_of_Faith/pseuds/Leap_of_Faith, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volavi/pseuds/Volavi
Summary: In which Dick isn't so great at taking care of himself, Jason is ridiculous, and it's just another Tuesday in Gotham. Luckily Jason has a Roomba.





	Till human voices wake us, and we drown

**Author's Note:**

> Triggers are in the tags.
> 
> Thanks to IMIghtwing for the beta.

Ranking Gotham villains alphabetically, Victor Zsasz was last. Obviously. 

Most attached to their knives - Zsasz was maybe the first on that list. 

Ok, throw out the Joker because of course he’s going to be the the top (or bottom) of all of the rankings. 

Blood loss was perhaps affecting Dick’s mental capacity. 

So not counting the Joker, Zsasz had to be near the top for crazy. For downright annoying. And for having to get a new uniform after an encounter. 

Despite all that, old Victor was on his way to Arkham and Dick was taking the rooftop express to his nearest safe house, where a suture kit and his bed sang their siren song. 

When Dick stumbled on a landing he should have hit in his sleep, he realized he might not make it to his own place. The cuts burned and his left leg didn’t seem to want to do what it was told. More concerning, his head ached and he felt queasy - classic early symptoms of blood loss. Dick looked around, pinpointing exactly where he was in the city, and remembered that Jason had a safe house just two buildings away. 

Dick had been there only a couple of weeks ago. Over the past couple of months, he and Jason had been randomly ending up in bed together. If by randomly Dick meant that the overwhelming sexual tension fueled by anger and resentment got too much to bear and they ended up ripping off each other’s uniforms. They had hot, athletic sex and then one of them left - noone ever stayed the night.

Dick knew that Jason was fastidious and protective of his property, but given the circumstances, Dick thought that Jay probably wouldn’t mind. Also, Dick figured that knowing where someone kept their lube and sex toys gave a certain amount of implied permission to crash when in danger of bleeding out. 

Despite Dick’s state, disabling Jason’s security system long enough to slip through a window undisturbed was easy enough. Dick latched the window, rearmed the security, and trudged towards the bathroom. He discarded gloves and other components of his suit as he went, weaving and stumbling only slightly. 

All the Bats kept well stocked first aid kits, and Dick patched himself up carefully despite his growing exhaustion. He sutured the deeper cuts, grateful for both his ambidexterity and flexibility as he stretched to get a couple of especially bad ones in inconvenient places. The worst one seemed to be a long laceration down the back of his left thigh, and by the time he finished stitching that one up, he was more than a little woozy. He finished by slathering the rest in betadine and bandages, until he was half mummy, and stumbled his way into Jay’s bed. 

Dick caught a whiff of Jay’s own scent against the smell of laundry detergent as he settled into the freshly-laundered sheets. He allowed himself to press his face into the pillow and inhale slowly, to savor it, then put thoughts of Jay and their awkward situation aside. Seconds after his head hit the pillow, Dick fell asleep. Or maybe passed out. 

*****

Jason moved to the workroom of his current residence from the kitchen, a sandwich and a mug of tea balanced in one hand, a sheaf of electronics diagrams in the other. He folded a paper towel around his sandwich so he could read and eat at the same time, but before long he'd set the half-eaten sandwich aside in favor of his latest project, still flipping through the papers from time to time. The apartment was silent except for Jason's occasional humming as he concentrated on the finicky component placement, not the occasional vibrations of the cellphone abandoned across the room. By the time he stretched, finished the sandwich, and drained the last cold dregs of tea, the phone had moved to the edge of the table, in very real danger of falling.

He frowned and snagged it as he returned his dishes to the kitchen, thumbing through the notifications once he’d taken care of his mess. The Roomba in one of his safe houses was spamming Jason's phone with error messages. His eyes narrowed as he turned around, making a beeline for the array of computers that monitored security in his properties. It might not be the Batcomputer, but it served his needs admirably, and he had access to the real thing if he needed it. 

He ran a remote diagnostic, and when that came up fine, pulled the security feed as well. If his Roomba hadn't malfunctioned, that meant he had a pest problem. “Son of a bitch…” Looked like Goldilocks was sleeping in his bed and it was just right.

Just right for Goldilocks, anyway. Not so much for Jason. He was livid, though. Anger simmered just beneath the surface, and he was going to deliver the wakeup call of a lifetime to a perpetual pain in his ass, otherwise known as one Dick Grayson. 

He turned to his weapons storage and the frown quirked, morphing into an evil smirk as he tucked one of the weapons into the back of his waistband. He'd teach Dickhead a lesson this time. His safe houses were his, and not just up for grabs for whichever of the rest of the Bats needed a spare bed to crash in. Dick needed to learn not to get too tired to head back to his own city like a good little vigilante. 

He grumbled again, something about show-offs with more sense of drama than brains, but that evil gleam in his eye became more pronounced in the short stretch of time it took him to walk to the other building. He was in what passed for civilian garb for him, which basically meant no helmet, no mask, no Bat across his chest, and no more armor than what was hidden in his jacket, and since he was dressed as no one special, he used the stairs. And the door. Because he wasn't a ridiculous excuse for a human being. He was capable of entering a building without going through the window. 

This was going to be the last time Dickface disabled his security and made a mess of any of his properties. He'd make sure of that. He opened the door, and the frown was back as he saw his Roomba caught on the edge of a black and blue gauntlet. 

That was it. Dick was going down. He stepped over the trail of equipment leading towards the bathroom and opened the bedroom door. “Wake up, asshole!” He barely waited for a tousled head to poke out of the blankets before he aimed and pulled the trigger twice. If this didn't fix his pest problem, he didn't know what would.

“Damnit, Dick, I just deep cleaned this place!” Hopefully, he had Dick’s attention, now. He knew a bit of drama was usually required to make a point, especially with Dick and Bruce, and it wasn't like he had a problem with some theatrics now and again, himself.

Dick jumped a foot off the bed, even as his hands were reaching for the escrima sticks Jason knew that he usually kept under his mattress. When his groping found nothing, he looked around wildly, then narrowed his eyes at Jason. “What the fuck?”

“Exactly. What the fuck did you think you were pulling…” Jason's voice trailed off as he saw the blood staining the sheets. His sheets. Then the color registered. Bright and fresh. He knew he hadn't shot real bullets. He hadn't even aimed at the idiot in his bed. But still, for that one split second, he worried he'd made a terrible mistake. 

“You're bleeding.” There was no inflection to the tone. For all Jason’s voice indicated, they could have been discussing the weather.

Dick still looked confused, like now he realized  he wasn’t really being shot at - that he was in Jason’s place and it was just Jason talking - he was having a hard time getting his brain online without the assistance of adrenaline. He levered himself up to sitting with a wince or two, then looked down at his bandaged torso and arms. 

“Did I miss a spot?”

“Miss a spot?” Jason frowned. “You’re more bandage than skin, at this point. For fuck’s sake, why didn't you go back to the Cave?” 

He put his weapons away and moved towards the bed. “Even if your back is only half as bad as your front, you’re a mess. Looks like you had a fight with a Edward Scissorhands and lost…”

“Zsasz. I was headed to my safe house at 17th and Perez Street but didn’t think I’d make it.” Dick retreated a bit against the pillows, pulling the duvet a bit higher. “Given the situation, I didn’t think you’d be this pissed. Is there a problem?” 

“The problem is you,” Jason growled out. He immediately spoiled the impact by pushing the hair away from Dick’s face. He wasn't angry at Dick anymore. Well, okay, that was a lie, but it was for another reason entirely, now. He could see the faint flush of fever on Dick's cheeks, now, and the way his eyes were glazed just enough to mute some of the brilliant blue of his eyes. Jason was angry. And scared.

He could tell Dick wasn't well, already, but the idiot had just crashed at a safe house. His safe house. And he just knew the Dickless Wonder here hadn't called anyone to let them know what was up, or they never would have left him alone. There was definitely a problem. 

“You’re ridiculous, Dickie… How do you even manage?” He could really see the mess Dick had made of his sheets, now. “Lie down the rest of the way before you fall down.” He pulled the covers down.  _ Missed a spot _ , he grumbled under his breath, then ended the complaint by cursing fluently in multiple languages.

Dick could have died, and none of them would have known. Jason wouldn’t have known. Dick had been stupid and reckless and… Jason took a long, calming breath and pushed the feelings down for the moment.

Dick relaxed under Jason’s ministrations, letting Jay pick up and examine various limbs and poke the bandages on the front of his body. “I let B know that Zsasz was in custody and told him that I wasn’t going to head back to the cave.” He closed his eyes. “I just need to sleep it off. What’s got your panties in a twist anyway?”

“Fucking hell, Dick. You don't just go up against fucking Zsasz by yourself and then crash, alone, when you're stuck through more than 20 times…” Jason paused. Yeah, Dick really didn't look all that great. His voice was still rough with concern, but he lowered the force and volume significantly. “What were you thinking?” 

There were times they had to fight through things. He'd accept that; but there were times to quit being a self-sacrificing idiot and use some sense and ask for help, too. This was definitely one of those times. “If you're going to crash here and bleed out on my sheets, you should at least give someone a courtesy call so they can pick up your sorry carcass before it stinks the place up too much.”

He pushed Dick's hair out of his face. Jesus, but he was burning up, and only going to get worse, before it got better, he was sure.

“Sorry... should have shot you a text or something. Didn’t mean to bleed so much.” 

“Most people don't decide to bleed out on purpose.” Except maybe Bruce. He might do it to prove a point. Or Damian. He might bleed out of spite.

“Oh, blood inside one’s body is so passé,” Dick said, a weak smirk playing across his lips. 

“Damnit, Dick. This is serious.” Jason sighed. “How deep are they? Did you need stitches?” 

Jason knew Dick was more than passable at sewing himself back up, and flexible enough he could reach just about anywhere, but if he'd crashed here and missed at least one wound... Jason wasn't going to trust that Dick had been lucid enough to be doing his best work. 

Dick lifted one shoulder in a small shrug. “I really thought I got all the bad ones last night.” He looked around at the undeniably soiled sheets and gave a wry smile. “Must have missed something though, or pulled some stitches.”

His eyes slid shut again. “Maybe you should double check.” 

“You think?” Jason just shook his head and moved closer so he could see the rest of the wounds. “C’mon, Dickface, sit up so I can see your back.” Then he'd change Dick's bandages as well as the sheets. He could call Alfred once Dick had gone back to sleep.

Jason should have known things wouldn't go as expected, though. He offered a hand as Dick struggled to sit, then had to scramble when Dick slumped against him. 

“Damnit, Dick, if you wanted a hug you could have asked. C’mon. Quit goofing off.” He knew it was a slim chance that Dick was faking, but it wasn't impossible.

Dick didn't wake back up. “Damnit to hell, Goldie…” Wounds first, and then he'd check everything else. And definitely call Alfred as soon as he got a chance.

He tugged Dick half onto his stomach and pulled the bottom nightstand drawer open with his foot. It wasn't his big first aid kit from the bathroom, but there were enough supplies in the drawer to manage for now. He cleaned and disinfected the wounds on Dick's back, and rebandaged them before he pulled out the suture kit for the wicked looking slice Dick had forgotten. Then he moved to one where the stitches had pulled and began bleeding sluggishly. 

The wounds on the front were a bit easier to manage, and not quite as bad, though that was only in comparison to the rest. He wasn't very pleased about the heat radiating from Dick's body, either. Or the deep slice down the back of Dick's thigh. The asshole would be out of commission for a week at least.

Idly, he wondered how long it would have been before anyone had noticed he'd been gone too long if his system hadn't notified him of a malfunction with his robot vacuum. Too long, he was afraid. He didn't think Dick was in danger of dying right now, but he didn't like what he saw so far. 

He called Alfred and let him know Dick was injured but stable and didn’t argue when Alfred announced he’d be by with dinner and medical supplies within the hour. After that, there wasn’t much he could do other than watch and wait.

And think. 

He’d grabbed a book from the shelf and pulled a chair close to the bed and attempted to read, but he just couldn’t focus on the words. He knew Dick wasn’t in any immediate danger, but he still didn’t like seeing him pale and still. It was unnatural. It also pricked at his conscience after he’d been so angry, before. He might have been justified in his anger over Dick’s bad habit of forgetting his clutter when he was distracted, but he’d admit now that he’d taken it too far, especially since he’d reacted before he’d known all the details. 

But that’s how it always was with Dick, wasn’t it? Somehow, he always got under his skin.

He set the book aside and watched for any change, waiting for Alfred. 

It was going to be a long night… 

*****

Dick woke with a gradual return to consciousness that spoke of really good drugs easing their way out of his system. As he came to his senses, he moved his fingers and toes, then the rest of his body, making sure nothing was missing or out of commission. He felt the stiff tug of stitches and healing lacerations, rather more than he expected, and he was on his side, not his usual sleeping position. Also unexpected was the fact that his senses attested that he wasn’t in the cave, his room at the manor, or even his own apartment. With a slight frisson of alarm, dulled by the drugs, he cracked his eyes open just enough to look around. 

Daylight from a single window, diffuse and indirect, was just enough for Dick to see soft gray walls and a used bookshelf, full of worn paperbacks and Penguin Classics. Jason’s safe house. Dick remembered disabling the window’s alarms. He closed his eyes again, as pieces from the rest of the night - was it last night or two nights ago? - came back to him. Dick tried to roll over, remembered why that would be a bad idea at the last minute before he could hurt himself, and tried to let the good drugs lull him back to sleep. 

A dry, cool hand on his forehead called Dick back to consciousness. He opened his eyes to the sight of Alfred, looking as neat and professional as ever. Dick smiled slightly in greeting. 

“Any dizziness? Nauseas? Headache?” Alfred asked quietly.

“All of it,” Dick admitted. “How are you?”

“I’d like to stop seeing you in quite such a state, Master Richard,” the butler admonished, tone acerbic, but Dick saw concern and warmth in his eyes. 

  
“Where’s Jason?”

“I just convinced him to try to nap on the couch not thirty minutes ago, as he was up all night by your side. Try not to wake him.”

Dick nodded meekly. Best not to argue when Alfred was in this mood. 

Alfred checked Dick’s vitals then announced, “Your fever is down a bit. There’s my boy. I’ll be right back with something to drink.”

“Your famous blood loss smoothie?” Dick croaked. 

“Quite right.”

Dick floated in a groggy state until Alfred returned and held the glass and straw for Dick to drink without having to sit up (the exact ingredients of Alfred's smoothie were a mystery, but Dick knew it had banana, spinach, orange juice, liquid iron supplement, and a bunch of other weird things, and still somehow managed to be delicious, if a rather unfortunate color). After finishing it, Alfred helped Dick relieve himself, then adjusted Dick’s IV. 

“I’m going to give you something to help you go back to sleep. I imagine you’ll feel better the next time you wake.”

Dick was nearly asleep again by the time Alfred left the room, but saw Jason appear in the doorway. Jason leaned against the frame, arms crossed, frowning in Dick’s direction. Dick studied him through lowered eyelashes. Jason looked careworn and worried, watching Dick with naked longing in his eyes. Dick didn’t know what to make of Jason’s expression. Jason couldn’t be thinking about Dick in that way, could he?

Dick tried to resist the tidal tug of whatever Alfred had just used, so he could stare at Jason long enough to work out what this meant. Jason looked like Dick was a treasure that had nearly slipped away. Why? It couldn’t be that Jason felt even a fraction of the feelings for Dick that Dick had for him, carefully buried so that Jason would never suspect.

But before Dick could make any conclusions, he lost his battle against the riptide and floated out to sea.

*****

“Thanks, Alfred. He looks a little better already.” Jason was waiting in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching Dick drift back into sleep.

“He does, indeed. Perhaps because he slept when asked? I seem to recall leaving you on the couch, Master Jason.” Alfred raised an eyebrow in what was probably disapproval.

Jason shrugged. “I know, Alfred, but I couldn’t sleep. I promise I tried.” He moved closer, took up his previous post beside the bed. “I was worried, before, and now I can’t quite relax,” he admitted, whispering. Not that it would probably matter with whatever Alfred had given Dick in the IV.

“Dear boy, you’ve exhausted yourself watching Master Richard. He is on the mend and in no immediate danger. Would you care for a cup of chamomile before I return to the Manor? And one of those science fiction novels, perhaps? They used to help you sleep when you were younger.” Alfred took the book from the table beside Jason and rummaged through the shelves for a moment, coming back with a slim, somewhat tattered paperback. 

“ _ Mountains of Mourning _ . You’re magic, Alfred. Have I mentioned that today?” He smiled and settled himself comfortably in the chair. “I’ll try the tea, but I won’t make any promises.” Jason glanced at Dick again, not even bothering to hide his concern.

“Hardly magic, Master Jason. Just observant.” Alfred straightened a stray wrinkle from Dick’s blanket and left the room, returning several minutes later with a cup of chamomile tea and three squares of gingerbread. 

“Definitely magic, Alfred. Thanks. For everything.” The gingerbread was just as good as Jason had remembered, spicy and lemony and just sweet enough to be satisfying. Perfect with the tea. 

“You’re most welcome, young sir. Do promise to take care of yourself as well, though. Master Richard will be asleep for the next several hours, I am sure.” Alfred brought a footstool within reach of Jason’s chair, and a small teapot on a tray.

“I will, Alfred. I’m fine for now, I promise.” Tired and worried, but fine. He’d sleep later. For now Jason just wanted to watch Dick. And think. 

“See that you do, Master Jason, and call if you need anything. I need to finish dinner preparations at the Manor, but I can return later if you wish.” Alfred turned to examine Dick one last time, then nodded his head, apparently satisfied with whatever he’d seen. Have a good evening, my boy. And please get some sleep.”

“Okay, mom,” Jason teased, but he was already stretching out in the chair and absently munching on another piece of gingerbread as he opened the well-loved novella.

He never even heard Alfred leave.

*****

“Jason?” a quiet voice called, voice hoarse and weak. 

Jason frowned and tried to roll over and ignore whatever… whoever, was interrupting his sleep, but that was almost impossible to do in a chair and it only took him a moment to remember just where he was, and why. Everything was hazy after Alfred had left. He did remember Alfred trying to make him sleep. Why was he always right?

“Jason?” he heard again.

“Dick?” He managed to grab his book before it could fall to the floor and turned to meet reassuringly blue eyes. They were ringed in shadows, but awake and bright with awareness. There was a slight haze likely left over from whatever Alfred had given him earlier but it looked like Dick was truly on the mend, now. 

“Thirsty?” He didn't remember leaving the water bottle on the nightstand, but he was tired enough that was an easy mistake to make. Then he realized it was a twist top lid. Jason knew he hadn't stocked those in this safe house. And he vaguely remembered a teapot there the night before. It was gone. Alfred must have come back again at some point. Even when Jason didn't live in the Manor, Alfred was still making his life easier. He offered the drink to Dick. 

Dick smiled. “Thanks.” He pushed himself up onto one elbow and took several greedy gulps until Jason pulled the bottle away. Dick made a small noise of protest, but Jason tried to make up for it by propping a few pillows behind Dick’s back. 

“What happened after I got here?” Dick asked. 

“Before or after you almost bled out in bed?” Jason shrugged. “Looks like you climbed in the window, made a mess of my safe house on your way to the shower, managed to miss one of your wounds, and bled all over my bed. I got a mobile notification from my security system and came over…” Jason didn't mention the guns. Dick would either remember or put it down to hallucinations; Jason wasn't going to fill him in one way or the other.

He stretched, cracking his neck in the process. He was a little sore, but nothing a good night's sleep in a real bed and a hot shower wouldn't fix. When he finally got time, anyway. “You swooned into my arms like a damsel in distress. You've been in and out for the last two days. Mostly out.” Jason hadn't meant to fall asleep, so he supposed it was a good thing Alfred had checked in on them.

“And you took care of me here, instead of sending me back to the manor?” Dick gave Jason a blinding smile, but Jason thought he saw a bit of confusion

“Alfred came over to check on you, too, set up an IV.” And apparently came back again, after. While Jason was asleep. He'd be willing to bet his favorite gun there was homemade chicken soup in the fridge and Earl Grey in the cupboard. Probably some Gunpowder Green, too. The more he looked around, the more things he noticed that hadn’t been there when Alfred had visited. The low buzz of the Roomba interrupted his thoughts. He hadn’t taken the time to plug it in. Alfred had definitely been back in the safe house. 

“Anyway… toast and tea to start with?” Maybe there was a chance Dick wouldn't keel over, first step towards the bathroom, if he got something in his stomach first.

Dick’s grin became more real. “Yes, please. And maybe after that I can get out of your hair. How did you know that I was here? I’m sure I disabled the window alarm correctly.”

Jason chuckled darkly, remembering. 'You did. But your habit of dropping your stuff on the floor came back to bite you in the butt, this time. My Roomba got stuck, and when it didn't dock to recharge, an alarm went out.” Sure, it sounded ridiculous, now, but it had definitely been somewhat more of a hanging offense when Jason had first realized what had happened.

He shrugged. “I checked out the camera feed, and you were bleeding all over my mattress when I got here.” Jason wasn't going into any more detail if he could help it, though. He definitely wasn't going to tell Dick how his anger had slowly faded into something else over the last two days, especially since he couldn't put a name to exactly what that something else was. 

Dick frowned and looked around as if he was piecing things together. Jason saw his eyes widen and then narrow. “I just remembered waking up because of gunshots. Did you get so mad your vacuum ran out of batteries that you tried to shoot me?” 

“Please. If I'd tried to shoot you, I wouldn't have missed, especially not at point blank range and the state you were in.” He'd shot the blanks, but never with any intent to wound, just make some noise, make a point… He shifted in his chair. 

“So. Tea and toast? And then soup if you can manage it.” He hadn't seen Alfred yet, but he was sure he'd be back, if only to declare Dick ready to head home or drag him back to the Manor.

Dick sighed, still frowning, but agreed.

Jason was back soon enough with expertly brewed tea with milk and two sugars, just how Dick liked it, without asking how Dick took it. 

After they’d finished the light repast, Dick tried to meet Jay’s eyes. “Thanks for looking after me. I mean it.” He’d been awkward since he remembered the gun shots. 

Jason gave a half-hearted shrug. He might have lived with Bruce, been trained by Batman, but he could deal with his emotions at least enough to be functional - most of the time, anyway. But being better at emotions than Bruce just meant he could figure things out sometimes; right now, it was enough to tell him something was… off between him and Dick. He just couldn't figure out exactly what, or how to fix it. 

“You know I wouldn't leave any of you if you were really hurt, right?” Jason asked. Things had been rocky when he’d first come back, because of the Pit and because he'd just been so hurt and angry at Bruce and the world, but he hadn’t thought Dick could think he still had an issue with helping him. He sighed and wished he could figure out what was going on in Dick's head right now, why things were so fucking awkward.

Dick chewed on his lower lip, and his gaze flicked towards Jason and then away. “I know you’d help any of us if it was serious. But your obligation ended when you stopped the bleeding and called Alfred. You didn’t have to let me stay, especially considering your welcome initially involved a handgun.” 

“I… you can always stay, Dick. I just… I was upset. It's not even that you came in without asking. You were hurt. I get that now, even if I didn't then. But you just drop things and I thought maybe you were just tired and… damnit, this might not be my main residence, but it's mine, and I have rules and boundaries and you walk right through every one, every time, and I didn't know, okay?” Jason finally paused for a breath, only the wild look in his eyes and his uncharacteristically frantic speech giving away his turmoil.

He took a deep breath and continued, far more slowly and quietly. “They were blanks. I just wanted to make a point.” And then he stared at a fascinating knot in the hardwood floor, as if it held the answers to the universe. 

“So you’re not mad that I broke in and bled all over your clean sheets, you’re mad that your Roomba ate my glove?”

“It sounds stupid when you put it that way,” Jason growled without any real heat. “I was mad that you just dump your stuff everywhere sometimes, okay? And okay, I did get mad that you bled all over my sheets, but that's because you could have died, damnit, and none of us would have known, until after.” Jason didn't want to think about that very hard.

Dick grimaced as Jason’s words hit home. “You’re right, of course. I should have called someone before I passed out, just to give a heads up, once I decided I wasn’t well enough to make it back to my own place. And I’d like to stay until I’m back on my feet, if that’s okay.”

Jason considered Dick for a long moment. Something had changed as they talked, though he couldn't for the life of him tell exactly what. Some sort of tension had eased, though, and he wasn't going to waste whatever new opportunity he'd gotten.

“You can stay on two conditions.” Jason wouldn't kick Dick out even if he said no, but he wanted to at least try to set some ground rules here. “Number one, keep your junk off the floor so you don't mess with my Roomba. I mean it. And number two, you actually stay in bed and heal like you're supposed to.” He knew exactly the kind of tricks a sick or injured Dick was likely to attempt. “No more fainting into my arms, okay?”

“I think I can agree to both of those. I do have a condition of my own though. Will you sleep with me?” Dick gave Jason a crooked smile. “I don’t want to kick you out of your own bed any longer than I have to.”

“If you remember you already agreed to condition number two. Just sleeping.” Jason returned a smile of his own. Whatever had just happened seemed like maybe it wouldn't be so bad, at least if Dick kept his word, and Jason knew he tended to. 

Dick smirked. “You are slightly overestimating my stamina and recovery if you think that I’m up for much more than sleeping at the moment. Not sure I can even make it to the restroom on my own right now. But maybe in a day or two...” His voice trailed off suggestively, one eyebrow cocked. 

“No sooner than a week or I'll drop your ass off back at the Manor and tell Alfred just what a bad patient you were,” Jason threatened, just because he could. No matter how much Dick's… stamina recovered, he wasn't going to take any chances with the sutures pulling. Maybe if there were fewer of them, and not in so many different places… but no.

“But speaking of the restroom, I could probably be convinced to help you there if you ask nicely. And then we can see if you can manage a shower.” Jason was desperate for one of those, himself, but he'd wait until Dick was safely asleep, again. 

Dick rolled his eyes but held out a hand and said “please” very prettily. As Jason was helping him ease out of bed and onto his feet, he waited for a moment and then murmured, “So you like it when I beg, do you? And then helping me get naked.” Jason made a muffled kind of snort of surprise which made Dick grin.

Jason ignored Dick’s triumphant smirk. He wasn’t about to encourage Dick any more, at least not until he was at least somewhat healed. He watched the teasing smile fade as they moved slowly towards the bathroom. Two days in bed, a fever, and blood loss, combined with limited food had definitely taken their toll on Dick’s strength level. Jason didn’t see a need to mention it, not when Dick was dizzy and weak walking the fifteen feet towards the bathroom. He left to give Dick some privacy, but stayed close enough in case he was needed. He wasn’t sure Dick’s leg would support him in the shower even if he wasn’t already lightheaded and woozy. 

>

“Little wing, can I have a hand?” 

Jason was pleasantly surprised Dick actually remembered his promise to behave during his recovery; Dick’s earlier comment about begging had worried Jason that he’d need to be on guard for any shenanigans, but maybe things would work out. He sure as hell didn't want to be stitching up a head wound on top of everything else if Dick fell and concussed himself. 

He stripped and folded his clothes in a neat pile on the counter. Dick's weren't as neat, but he'd made an effort, and Jason was willing to concede perfectly folded didn't matter if they were going right back on Dick's body or into the hamper. The effort was appreciated. 

As soon as he entered the shower, Jason mentally thanked Alfred yet again. His preferred brand of toiletries stood beside Dick's. New washcloths and a red shower scrubbie were waiting inside the shower. 

“Just hold onto the wall. And no jokes about dropping the soap or I swear I'll let you fall,” Jason said. His tone was light enough even Bruce would have realized it wasn't a real threat. 

“I promise - no funny business,” Dick said with a small chuckle. Dick handed the red poof to Jason with a raised eyebrow and small smirk but didn’t say anything. Jason soaped up Dick in a completely professional, even impersonal fashion, trying to ignore how much he wished this was under better circumstances. Dick, for his part, behaved and didn’t make any more suggestive comments. He didn’t even react when Jason soaped that lovely ass. Still, after Jason helped Dick out of the shower and wrapped him up in a fluffy towel, Dick wrapped his arms around Jason and pulled him closer than Jason thought was strictly necessary. 

“Is kissing completely off the table?” Dick asked. 

“No, but I'd prefer it after I brush my teeth and have you safely in bed so you can't keel over.” Jason looked meaningfully at Dick's bandaged thigh. “And after I check your bandages.”

Sure enough, there were two toothbrushes on the counter, and their respective brands of toothpaste. Idly, Jason wondered when Alfred slept, and if maybe he actually was a meta. Being attentive to detail didn't even begin to explain how he managed everything he did.

Once Dick was brushed and bandaged to Jason’s exacting satisfaction, Dick was back in bed, chicken soup offered and declined, Dick grabbed Jason’s wrist and held on just tight enough to still Jason’s restless motions. “Come on, get in too.”

Jason  _ had _ agreed, and it wasn't like he didn't want to kiss Dick. He'd just been worried and he wanted to make sure Dick was taken care of. There wasn't any real reason not to do as he asked, though. 

“Okay.” He was only half-dressed, but at least his pajama pants offered some sort of claim to modesty. He slid onto the bed as carefully as he could manage. Dick looked a little tired, still, but he didn't appear to be in too much pain, but it was fifteen minutes past when Alfred had said Dick was due for his next round of meds. He handed them over and then made to fluff the pillows when Dick distracted him in the best way possible.

It was perhaps forty minutes later and they were half drowsing together when Dick looked up at Jason and asked, “So, what's his name?”

“Huh? Whose name?” Jason couldn't see that the question had anything to do with anything they'd talked about recently.

Dick grinned and kissed the tip of Jason's nose. “Your Roomba. I know you. You named it, didn't you?”

“I… why would you think that?” It was totally too late, though. Jason could feel the heat on the tips of his ears. Busted. Dick would know he was lying.

“J. Alfred Proomba.” He waited for the laughter, but it never came. 

“I think that’s perfect. Of course you’d like Eliot. Though don’t tell Alfred - he thinks any poet born after 1875 is an upstart modernist.”

Jay spluttered. “He does not!” but Dick was already drifting back to sleep. 

*****

Some time later, Alfred returned to the safe house to check on Dick. Not that he doubted Jason’s care-taking ability, but he wanted to make sure both lads were still content with the arrangement. He snuck inside, ghosting towards the bedroom first. When he’d left them several hours ago, Jason had been dozing in a chair by the bed, having slept very little during the 48 hours or so of Dick’s fever.

A slight smile ticked up both sides of Alfred’s mustache at the sight behind the bedroom door. Dick was fast asleep face down on the bed. Jason had curled his large body protectively around Dick, carefully not touching at all besides one unbandaged forearm. 

It seemed both young sirs found the arrangement very pleasing indeed. 

**Author's Note:**

> The title and the name of the Roomba are taken from "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T. S. Eliot. Jason is reading "The Mountains of Mourning", a novella in the Vorkosigan Saga by Lois McMaster Bujold. 
> 
> Written over the course of eleven days, one international flight, one 1200 mile road trip, two holidays, and a seven hour time difference.


End file.
